


Sammy Summons a Demon

by Dextolan



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Confused Sam, Demon Summoning, Neglect, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective John Winchester, Sam just wants a bedtime story, Young Dean, Young Sam, demons can be summoned by spells because I’m lazy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-18 06:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21840142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dextolan/pseuds/Dextolan
Summary: John is busy to say the least. Hunting is a priority but his boys have to come first. He often forgets and his four-year-old son gets an unexpected bedtime story.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters)
> 
> Hi. You might not have seen my name around here unless you enjoy criminal minds FanFiction.
> 
> This is my first time writing a supernatural fic and I love young Sam and dean and protective John.
> 
> This is just a thing I thought of and knew I had to write.
> 
> Dean is 8 and Sam is 4. (Also, let's pretend summoning a demon is easier... I.e a spell can do it.)
> 
> I will also be posting this on FanFiction under the same name.
> 
> Enjoy

"Sammy up to bed. Come on, we have to get going tomorrow."

Sam twisted his bare foot into the rug, his hands going behind his back as he swayed.

"Can you read me a story?" he mumbled. John sighed when big brown eyes gazed up at him. He was trying not to give in to the four-year-old's childish whims, but it was hard when the kid cracked out his puppy dog eyes.

"Bed, Sam," he said, pointing at the stairs.

Dean walked down the hall as Sam started to trudge toward the stairs.

"You too, Dean," John said, going back to cleaning the barrels of his gun.

Dean paused and looked into the living room. He scowled at his father.

"It's not my bedtime."

"Go put Sammy to bed then I want you to get to sleep too. We have a busy day tomorrow, Dean. Now get your ass up there." John didn't look up and so didn't see the unhappy expression on his oldest son's face.

"Yes, sir," muttered Dean, turning toward the stairs. "Night, Bobby!" he called into the kitchen where the older-man was scrubbing dishes.

"See ya in the mornin', kiddo!"

Dean walked to the top of the stairs and huffed. He loved his brother but Dean wasn't a baby, he could stay up later than Sam.

"Put Sammy to bed Dean," Dean grumbled, shuffling toward the room he shared with Sam. "Get to bed, Dean... this sucks."

He got to their room and saw Sam sat in the middle of his bed (closest to the window,) his legs curled like a pretzel. He smiled but the older boy ignored him as he grabbed his change of clothes.

"Dean, will _you_ read me a story?"

Dean pulled off his top and slipped on the one he wore to bed. He glanced back at Sam and shook his head.

"It's late, Sam," he said, not believing his own words. It was barely past seven. Sam sat up on his knees.

"But I'm not even tired! See!" Sam opened his eyes really wide to prove his point but Dean took no notice.

"You heard dad, Sammy. Under the covers."

Sam pouted but pulled up the sheets.

He paused, his fingers tangling in the bedsheets. He heard Dean shuffle around and after a few more moments Sam turned to look at him. He watched the older boy hitch a pair of sweatpants up and unstuck his top.

"Dean?"

Dean looked over at Sam to see him biting his bottom lip.

"Sleep, Sam."

"B-but I wanted a story..." Sam looked down at his pillowcase as Dean rolled his eyes.

"Dad'll read you one tomorrow. Unless you want him on your ass, get to sleep!"

Dean got into bed not long after. He looked over at Sam who was gazing at the ceiling. He was too frustrated to try and console the boy so he turned on his other side and closed his eyes.

* * *

Sam tried to sleep he really did but every time he closed his eyes they'd force themselves open.

He gave up entirely when the whole house had gone quiet. He kicked off the covers, the hand-me-down plaid pyjama's ruffling up at his feet.

He turned to face Dean but the boy had his back to him, his breaths coming out evenly.

"Deanie?" he whispered, his lips trembling in the dark. As expected, Dean didn't react.

Sam sat up and bit down hard on his lip.

He wanted something to read. John only carried three books, one full of bedtime stories, one in Latin and his diary. Sam had read every story in the bedtime stories book and he wasn't allowed near the diary.

Sam sat there for a moment, thinking hard. Uncle Bobby had a lot of books. Sam knew he did since they were piled all around the house. Sam smiled to himself, pushing his bangs out of his eyes.

He was sure there'd be something cool to read in one of Bobby's books.

Sam slipped out of his and Dean's room without disturbing his brother. When he looked back Dean had his eyes closed and his mouth parted slightly in sleep. Sam stuck his tongue out when he saw a thin spiel of drool connecting Dean and his pillow.

Sam tip-toed down the stairs, his little feet making no sound on the old wood. He got to the bottom and glanced into the living room. The lamp was still on and his father's guns were laid out on the table, freshly cleaned.

Sam walked past before hopping into the room with all the books. He smiled at all the different books piled up like the drawings he saw in Dr Seuss' books. He really loved coming to see Bobby, his house was-

"Awesome," Sam mumbled.

There were still some lit candles dotted around the room and Sam fought the urge to blow them out. He wasn't allowed near flames unless it was a candle on a birthday cake. John had only let him have one measly candle on his last birthday before throwing the useless wax stick in the trash.

Sam looked around in the candle's glow. He couldn't decide which book to go with.

Sam jumped over to the big desk and fumbled around on his tip-toes. He couldn't quite reach the books so he turned and scanned the room for others. His eyes landed on a huge book left out on a small side-table. Sam grinned and hurried over to it. He reached his thin arms up and grabbed the big book, stumbling backward a little as he heaved it into his arms. He managed to catch himself and he looked down at his prize.

The cover was worn and tired but Sam could read the parts of the title. 'Demon's and Degenerates.' The rest of the writing had been worn away.

Sam opened the big book, wobbling on his short legs for a moment. The writing was all swirly and Sam thought it was handwritten. He turned a page and saw an illustration of a person. He cocked his head, squinting at the picture before his neck pulled back sharply. The man in the picture had black eyes.

Sam swallowed nervously, glancing over his shoulder as if there was a black-eyed man behind him. When he realised the hall was empty he took a step further into the room and slowly plunked his backside on the floor. The flickering candles sent light down to his spot as he lay the book out on his small thighs.

He turned the next page and saw a symbol printed there. He ran his fingers over it, wondering what it meant. He flipped the page, looking for a story. There were words on this page. Sam realised it was in Latin.

"Hmmm," he murmured, pursing his lips as he tried to speak the words inside his head. He had heard his dad practice Latin a lot. He'd even seen the Latin book and knew from Dean's butchered attempts and John's corrections how to pronounce some words.

Sam started to mumble the words to himself, seeking a story out within the jumble. He made it down to the bottom of the paragraph and turned the page. There was another picture but no more words. Sam turned back to the words and attempted to say it again.

Maybe if he said it enough then he would understand.

This time, when he got to the end there was a sudden sizzling sound.

Sam raised a hand up to shield his eyes when a bright light appeared before him.

It was over as soon as it started. Sam kept his chubby fingers over his eyes. He was panting hard, his shoulders shaking when he heard a grumbling sound. He pulled a finger away and peeked though the rest. He dropped his hands suddenly at what he thought he saw and whimpered when his suspicions were true and he saw a strange man stood in front of him.

The man looked down at the book on Sam's lap and then back at the kid, his lips curling into a sneer.

"How adorable," the man said.

"W-who are you?" Sam whispered. He blinked up at the man, wondering where the he'll he came from. He was wearing all black except for a crimson tie. Sam thought he looked pretty cool especially since he just appeared out of nowhere.

"I'm Crowley," the man replied, looking Sam up and down. "And who might you be? And how did a baby moose like you summon me?"

Sam frowned at the name Crowley used. "I'm not a moose," he retorted. Crowley raised his eyebrows.

"From that floppy hair you could pass. I think you're going to be _pretty_ tall too, your arms are already too long."

Sam patted his hair self-consciously and he frowned at Crowley.

"If you really don't like that name then you should tell me another one."

Sam looked conflicted before he mumbled, "I'm Sam... Sam Winchester."

Crowley seemed intrigued by that. His eyebrows shot up and his smile grew.

"A Winchester? What's you father's name, Sam?"

Sam pressed his lips together, eyeing Crowley suspiciously. "I don't think I should tell you that, mister," he said.

"Why not? I thought we were friends, moose?" Crowley said with a pout. A flash of guilt crossed Sam's face and he looked back into the dark hall.

"How about I make this easy," said Crowley. "Is Daddy called John?"

Sam took a step back at the man's guess. "How did you do that?"

Crowley chuckled. "Oh, we know a lot about your father, Sam. So why is John Winchester's son summoning me?"

"I didn't... you just appeared," Sam said, he felt a strange feeling surge within him; he felt sweaty and as if he was literally filling up with dread.

Crowley smirked and said "that's what happens when you summon a demon, moose. Poof, magic, I appear."

Sam's tongue felt thick all of a sudden. "Demon?!" he squeaked. Daddy said those things were bad... _really_ bad.

"Bingo," said Crowley, bending down to look Sam in the eyes.

"So what are you doing, summoning little old me?"

Sam gripped the book tight as Crowley's eyes suddenly flipped, a sleek black taking their place.

Sam screamed, realising the scary black-eyed man in the book had come to life. Crowley laughed and straightened up.

"That party-trick always goes down well," he said, more to himself.

"Go away!" Sam cried. He backed away from Crowley. "My daddy and uncle will get you."

"But, Sam, you _invited_ me."

"Sam!"

Sam turned his head toward the familiar voice and saw his father. He was wearing shabby pyjamas and he looked exhausted but he still had a gun raised and aimed at Crowley.

Crowley grinned down at Sam, squeezing the boy's shoulder. "That's my cue, mini-Moose. See you around."

John fired, starting Sam. The shot went clean through the air and into the drywall on the other side of the room.

Bobby was suddenly there too and there were frantic steps and floorboard creeks upstairs.

John bolted to his youngest son and pulled him into an embrace. Sam was sniffling from the sound of the gun and he trembled in John's arms. John pressed his lips to Sam's forehead whispering 'thank yous' to God.

"Dad! What's going on?" Dean looked around the room with squinting eyes, still sore from sleep. Bobby saw the book on the floor and he staggered forward to grab it.

"What the hell was that?" he said, glaring at John who released Sam and held him back by his shoulders.

"A demon," John whispered. He looked from the book to Bobby before both men's gazes fell to Sam. The young-boy felt his face drop and his eyes water. He knew he was in trouble now.

"What happened, Sammy?" asked John in a quiet voice. Sam sniffed hard and a sudden sob broke past his lips. He reached up and slapped the tears away.

"I didn't mean to, daddy," he mumbled. Bobby looked back down at the book and his jaw set tightly.

"Did you read something in this book?"

Sam looked up at Bobby with sparkling eyes before slowly nodding. Bobby closed his eyes briefly and felt his teeth grind together.

"This isn't for children, Sam," Bobby snapped. Sam looked down and sniffed, tears falling onto his hands which were wringing together.

John looked at his son in disbelief.

"Did you read something... that wasn't in English?" John asked and Sam nodded again. Over his head John and Bobby shared a look of dismay.

Bobby slammed the book shut.

"How could he be such an idjit!"

"Bobby," Dean said, warning the older man.

"Not now, Dean," said John who shook his son a little so he'd look up at him.

"What were you thinking, Sam?"

Sam stared at his father, fat tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I-I..." he looked over at Bobby who was grumbling about summoning demons. It was the look of anger and disappointment in his father's face that had Sam falling into heavy sobs. "Bedtime story..." Sam wailed, smacking at his eyes as tears came flooding in.

Dean grimaced at the door. How could anyone be mad at Sammy? He'd only wanted someone to read to him.

"Damn it," John hissed and he turned his glare on Bobby. "Why can't you put this crap away?!"

Sam sobbed harder but John still held him at arms length.

Bobby dropped the book on his desk and turned sharply on John.

"This is my house, Winchester. Maybe if you weren't so neglectful-"

"Don't say another word," snarled John, his fingers digging into Sam's shoulder blades. "He's too young to-"

"Dad, Bobby! Stop," Dean yelled over the adults. He stepped cautiously into the room, as if the demon were about to spring up on him. "Who cares. Sam didn't mean to, alright? Lay off." He spoke quietly, unsure of himself. He wasn't meant to talk back.

Sam was wailing at that point and John's grip on his shoulder loosened.

"Sammy-" he started but Sam managed to writhe away from him and run to Dean. The younger brother grabbed Dean around the waist and clung to him.

"Dean!" he cried, rubbing his face into Dean's top. Dean quickly lifted his brother into his arms, holding him close.

"It's okay, Sammy."

John watched his boys for a moment before scrubbing a hand down his tired face.

"What're we gonna do, John?" Bobby asked quietly as John pushed himself to his feet.

"We're leaving," muttered John and he walked over to Dean. "Give me, Sammy. Get his and your things and go to the car."

"But-," Dean started as he let his dad take Sam and put him on his hip.

"That's an order, son."

* * *


	2. Mister Crowley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters)
> 
> I was rereading this story and I thought it was cute... and I love writing cute things. It's also been a year which is crazy.
> 
> So I thought, why not write a part two.
> 
> This is set straight after the last chapter. Crowley is very intrigued by the little boy who summoned him... he just has to take one more look.

Sam missed Bobby. He stared down into his bowl of mac and cheese and sighed. Dean added ketchup to it, insisting it was a gourmet specialty, but to Sam, it only seemed to change his to a watery pink since dad had added too much water.

Sam forced another spoonful in before pushing the bowl away.

"Sam."

Sam looked up to see his dad watching him from the bed. John got a bed to himself while Sam had to share with Dean. He didn't mind so much. He had been sharing with his dad a lot before but John had told him he was old enough to stay with Dean from now on. Sam didn't miss the hard shape of a gun he often felt when he rolled onto his dad's pillow.

John looked at the bowl and fixed Sam with a hard stare.

"I'm full up, daddy," Sam said in a quiet voice and John set his now clean gun down.

"We're not wasters, Sammy. Have at least two more spoons."

Sam pouted and looked at his spoon before picking it up slowly and scooping up some more. John watched him closely as Sam brought the spoon to his lips and glanced nervously at John.

"That's one," John said as Sam chewed begrudgingly. "One more, young man."

"I can finish it, dad." Dean sat up on the couch, bringing the remote up with him. John held up his hand to stop his eldest son intervening. Dean did that a lot. He'd offer to go in Sam's place. When Sam had been one and due for a vaccine Dean had offered his arm up instead of Sam who had started to wail after the first one. John didn't like to see either of his boys in pain or discomfort, but he was more realistic than his eldest son.

"We can't have Sam being skinny, Dean. I said one more, Samuel!" John yelled when he saw Sam push his bowl away again and try to slip out of the chair.

Sam's lips turned down and his feet dangled temptingly toward the floor. "Daddy," he mumbled, his lips trembling. Dean looked over at John, his eyes also pleading.

"After the other day, Sam, I need you big and strong. If you don't eat one more spoon I'll make you eat the whole bowl."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes and when John made no signs of letting up, Sam grabbed the spoon and shoveled one last helping into his mouth. He dropped the spoon and continued to gaze at his father with frightened eyes and a full mouth.

To both Sam and Dean's relief, John smiled.

"Good boy."

* * *

Sam laid down by Deans feet after lunch to watch cartoons while John finished cleaning his guns. He got up eventually and made his way over to Sam. Dean was fast asleep at that point with the remote hanging in his limp hand.

John looked down at Dean and smiled before ruffling Sam's hair. Sam sat up, pushing himself away from Dean's feet and watching with a smile as his hair fell into his eyes. He gave it a quick shake and John chuckled and mumbled something about haircuts.

"I'm going out for a little bit," John whispered and he patted Sam's head again when the boy looked suddenly distressed. "Not for long. I'm going to lock the door. Don't mess with the guns and wake your brother if you need anything."

Sam leaned across Dean but John pulled him back quickly. "Don't wake him," he said. Sam pouted and looked back down at Dean who was sleeping with drool on his lips.

"Try and get some sleep. I'll be back in twenty minutes."

"Okay, daddy," Sam whispered back, earning himself another ruffle in his mass of hair.

John quietly walked out and shut the door behind him. Sam sat and listened for the click before he looked back at Dean.

Sam giggled when he saw his older brother still drooling, making the arm of the couch wet. His head was turned to the side and pressed up against the rough fabric, leaving marks on his face and ruffling his short hair. Sam hopped off the couch without waking Dean and he watched him for a moment with a smile.

He always thought Dean looked funny when he slept, mostly because he drooled and talked in his sleep about things that made Sam giggle. Sam wished he could take a photo so he could show Dean and then they'd laugh about it together.

Sam made a box with his fingers and pretended to take a photo. He squinted and imitated the sound of the flash going off.

Dean didn't stir. Sam's arms fell back to his sides as he looked at his brother then down at the remote. The tv was still set to Dean's cartoons. Sam wished he knew how to use the remote, then he could put whatever he wanted on. Instead, he was stuck watching whatever Dean wanted. Sam wondered as he looked at the remote if he could take it without having Dean noticed.

Sam smirked cheekily as he glanced around the room and got to his knees, edging closer to the remote. Just as Sam was about to pinch it from his brother's grip he heard a sudden whoosh coming from the kitchen.

Sam sat up on his knees, craning his neck to get a look over the couch.

"Daddy?" he whispered. Sam was amazed by how fast the time had gone by. He was sure John had only been in the room a few moments before.

Sam heard the fridge open and he clambered to his feet, brushing off his knees as he tried to get a look into the kitchen.

"Daddy?" he called again quietly. He stepped around the couch and peered around the wall that separated the dingy kitchen from the sad little lounge.

Sam saw a man in front of the fridge but it wasn't his daddy. Sam jumped around the corner, standing tall with bravery.

The man rooted around for a minute before straightening, closing the fridge, and spinning around.

Sammy put his hands on his hips and gave the man a menacing glare.

"Who are you!"

The man smiled and Sam recognised him.

"Moose! I thought I'd see you here."

Sam's arms fell to his sides as he stared up at Crowley. "M-m-mister-"

"Just Crowley, kid. Mister sounds a tad too formal, even by my standards. My haven't you grown! I said you would."

Crowley grinned at the boy who quite clearly hadn't grown in two days, and was in fact shrinking away at the very sight of Crowley.

"M-my daddy says you're r-really bad."

"That's because your father is a hunter."

Crowley turned and scanned the counter.

"I know that," Sam said bravely, stepping back when Crowley walked forward.

"Where can you get a drink around here?" he muttered before looking at Sam again. He motioned to the door. "Your daddy should really put down salt lines," he said and Sam frowned.

Crowley walked past Sam who jumped back into the table. He was right by the couch which, Sam remembered with sickening dread, was where Dean was sleeping.

"No," Sam hissed when Crowley looked down on Dean.

"Well isn't he cute?"

"Get away from my brother, mister," Sam said, imitating his dad's deep voice. Crowley just laughed and he walked away from the couch.

"Don't worry, little moose, he's not as cute as you. He just looks like a squirrel."

Sam tried to run away but Crowley grabbed his arm and bopped his nose.

"Go away," Sam said, yanking his arm free and stumbling back. Crowley caught him again just before he could fall and Sam looked away from the man's black eyes. "P-please," he whispered.

"Your father should really be taking better care of you two. Maybe I should take you on a trip..." Crowley looked up and Sam followed his gaze to the ceiling with frightened eyes.

"Where?"

Crowley looked down slowly with a wide smile. "Hell of course."

"Deanie?"

Crowley put his hand over Sam's mouth, his other hand tightening around Sam's wrist, making the boy wince.

"Shhh shhh, don't wake up your brother, Sammy. If you wake him I'll have to hurt him."

Crowley chuckled at the way Sam's eyes grew comically wide, his lips moving desperately against Crowley's palm.

"Kids," he mumbled to himself. "So easy to wind up."

He pulled his hand away and Sam whimpered quietly, trying to get his wrist out of Crowley's bruising grip.

"I just thought I'd check on you. Your daddy's famous up where I live," Crowley said as Sam stared at his wrist which was starting to go numb.

"Deeeean."

"Come on now, Sammy boy. You don't want to wake Dean."

"Don't hurt me please," Sam whispered, his eyes rising slowly to Crowley who was still smiling.

"Why would I hurt you, little moose?"

"Daddy said-"

"Your daddy doesn't know me, does he?"

Sam stared at Crowley for a moment before he shook his head. His daddy knew Bobby, and Rufus, and pastor Jim but he didn't know Crowley. Sam bit his lip. Maybe his daddy was wrong, Mister Crowley hadn't hurt him, although his wrist was starting to hurt.

"Good," Crowley said.

John Winchester was about to break the quiet truce between the demon and his son when he unlocked the door and walked in with a smile on his face that quickly fell. He saw Sam being held in place by a man in a black suit. The man had Sammy's wrist in a tight grip and John felt his composure slip to make way for fear.

"SAM!"

Crowley turned suddenly when he heard John shout and he yanked Sam's wrist with just as sudden a twist that had the boy screaming.

John Winchester stood in the doorway with a bag in his hand which he dropped as he saw Crowley's black eyes. A box of lucky charms fell from the bag.

John lunged for the kitchen counter where he'd left one of his guns.

Crowley let go of Sam's wrist which he'd unintentionally broken. Sam cried and grabbed his hand, pulling it to his chest and backing away from Crowley.

"Daddy!" Sam cried as John turned momentarily for the gun.

"Sorry about that, moose," Crowley said, motioning to the wrist. "Complete accident. Your daddy startled me."

"Sam!" Dean fell off the couch, having been woken by the shouts. He rolled onto his knees and jumped up, only to freeze at the sight of a man in front of his crying brother.

Crowley grinned at Sam and waved his hand. "Ciao."

John managed to aim his gun just as Crowley vanished from the room, leaving him and Dean stood in disbelief, panting as their adrenaline wore off, and Sam, sat on his backside, cradling his arm and crying quietly.

"Jesus Christ," John said before he stumbled over to Sam, falling to his knees in front of him and gathering him into his arms. Sam cried louder when John nudged his arm but he quickly started to rock him and his sobs eased.

Dean stepped around the couch shakily and glanced at the door which was still open.

"Dean-"

"I got it, dad." Dean hurried to the door and slammed it shut. Sam jumped and pressed his face into John's chest, still holding his injured arm protectively. Dean picked up the bag that John had dropped, his hungry eyes lingering on the lucky charms before he set them on the table and went to his dad and brother.

John looked up from Sam and met Dean's worried eyes. "What happened?"

Dean rubbed the back of his neck and looked back at the couch where he'd been having a pretty nice dream until Sam had woken him.

"I don't know, sir," he said finally.

John looked at him sternly for a moment before both of their gazes fell to Sam who was sniffling as he tried to flex his stiff fingers.

"Sammy?"

Sam looked up and Dean felt his heart clench at the look of pure sweetness that his brother always seemed to conjure up in bad situations.

"My demon came back," Sam whispered. He held up his arm. "He hurt my arm, daddy."

"Your de-" John stopped and he looked back at door. He'd forgotten salt lines. Dean also looked horrified.

"The same one?" he mumbled and Sam nodded quickly, sniffing and rubbing his eyes on his good arm.

"Mister Crowley."

John rubbed his own face and he groaned. "Shit."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. I wrote this quickly last night so I hope it's okay. I love little Sammy so I hope I did him justice.
> 
> Please let me know what you thought in the reviews. 
> 
> See you soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise if it's rushed I was just so excited about posting.
> 
> Please review. Let me know if you'd like to see more because I'm not sure whether to leave it as a one-shot or not.


End file.
